


His Miracle or His Curse

by Megan (hrhprincessofalderaan)



Category: The Mummy (1999), The Mummy Series
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, F/M, First Kiss, First Meeting, Hanging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 16:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15247620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrhprincessofalderaan/pseuds/Megan
Summary: Evelyn Carnahan is easy to underestimate at first glance, but Rick O'Connell finds that this beautiful and mysterious stranger is the one thing standing between him and death. Rick's thoughts during their first meeting and his subsequent hanging. Sort of angsty, I guess, but I'm sure you already know he's not going to die, or else there wouldn't be a movie or an ensuing romance.





	His Miracle or His Curse

"Who're you? And who's the broad?"

"Broad?" the woman repeated, drawing out the word in her prim English accent.

"I'm just a local sort of missionary chap, spreading the good word," the young man said.

The man didn't look too much like a missionary--far too smarmy--but his companion certainly did. Long hair pinned back in an old-fashioned chignon. Long skirt all the way down to her ankles. Granted, Rick didn't care much about fashion, and he certainly didn't keep up with Western beauty trends, but he could tell at first perfunctory glance that this woman's hair and wardrobe choices were somewhat outdated and, well, frumpy. These were the Roaring '20s, so they said. Women all over Europe, Great Britain, and America were raising their hemlines and bobbing their hair.

"This is my sister, Evie," the so-called missionary chap continued.

"How do you do," said the woman.

He decided to spare her a second look after all. It was only polite for one to acknowledge a person who was speaking to them, and just because he was in prison and sentenced to be hanged didn't mean he was a complete animal. Besides, her voice intrigued him. It was deeper and throatier than he had expected, more sensual.

Rick wasn't prepared for what he saw when he turned to face her. A trim, gently curved figure. A heart-shaped face. Full, sensuous lips, parted slightly in surprise at his haggard appearance. A regal aquiline nose. And most surprisingly, huge, lovely eyes framed by long, dark eyelashes. Piercing, intelligent eyes. He couldn't decide if they were green or gold. He'd been a fool to think her frumpy just a short moment ago.

"Oh, well. I guess she's not so lost," Rick conceded aloud.

"I beg your pardon!" she exclaimed, scandalized.

"Ask him about the box!" her brother whispered loudly.

Now that was interesting. And explained at least her brother's presence at the Cairo prison. Clearly, the young man had some kind of get-rich-quick scheme and had managed to rope his sister into participating.

"We both found your puzzle box, and we've come to ask you about it," she said.

"No."

"No?" she repeated.

"No. You came to ask me about Hamunaptra."

"H-how do you know the box pertains to Hamunaptra?" she stammered, her eyes wide with wonder.

"Because that's where I was when I found it. I was there."

"But how do we know that's not a load of pig's wallow?" the brother interrupted again, leaning down to match Rick's eye level.

"Do I know you?" Rick asked, a spark of recognition hitting him.

"No, no, I've just got one of those faces."

Rick knew exactly where he had seen that smarmy face before. He made a fist and punched the man right in the face through a gap in the bars, causing the British man to double over in pain. The guards watching Rick thrashed him. It was worth it.

Through the pain, Rick watched in amusement as "Evie" (What, he wondered, was her Christian name? Evelyn? Evangeline? Yvette?) simply stepped over her brother's limp body with an air of total non-chalance. He couldn't stop the grin spreading on his face.

"You were actually at Hamunaptra?" she asked.

"Yeah, I was there."

"You swear?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Every damn day," he joked.

"I didn't mean that, I-"

"I know what you meant. I was there. Seti's place. City of the Dead."

"Could you tell me how to get there?" she asked.

And there it was. This prim, proper English woman's reason for visiting a filthy, soon-to-be-dead man in prison. He'd known this was coming. The only mystery was how she'd been finagled into being a part of her brother's harebrained scheme. Rick merely raised his eyebrows at her.

"I mean, the exact location," she continued, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

She removed her hat and placed it to the side of her face as if to make their conversation more discreet. Great. How very inconspicuous.

"You wanna know?" Rick asked.

"Well, yes." Her eyes grew wide.

"You really wanna know?" He crooked his finger at her, beckoning her closer.

"Yes!" Her eyes were positively enormous now.

When her face was inches from his, instead of revealing to her the secret of Hamunaptra's geographical coordinates, he grabbed her face through the bars and kissed her full on the mouth. He was about to die anyway, right? He might as well go out kissing a pretty girl as a sort of "last hurrah." Though his kiss was hard and lacking the usual amount of finesse he preferred to employ, he felt the girl's lips soften beneath his. A sense of masculine pride welled up in his chest. He'd caught her off-guard, but she was clearly enjoying his kiss nevertheless.

"Then get me the hell out of here!" he yelled as the guards ripped him away from her, dragging him off to the gallows. "Do it, lady!"

But he didn't really expect her to do any such thing.

"Any last requests, pig?" a guard asked Rick as the rope was tightened around his neck.

"Yeah," he said sarcastically. "Loosen the knot, and let me go."

Confused, the guard looked to the prison warden for guidance.

"Of course we don't let him go!" the warden shouted back.

The crowd grew louder. He vaguely heard the sound of the Englishwoman crying, "No!"

And then the wooden floor vanished from under his feet. His legs flailed helplessly. Time seemed to still around him, and he barely registered the sounds of shouting spectators. He choked and sputtered, struggling to breathe. He fought hard to maintain consciousness. Because as long as he was conscious, that meant he was still alive.

It was ironic, really. These past few years, Rick hadn't had much reason to care whether he lived or died. He didn't have any family that he knew of, and his entire regiment was dead. He'd taken to living recklessly, drinking to dull anything resembling emotion, and getting into fights in bars, which was what landed him in prison in the first place. It wasn't as if he had anything to live for really. But when faced with imminent death, some instinct to stay alive kicked in, an instinct he hadn't even known he possessed anymore.

And then suddenly he was on the ground. The skin of his neck was raw and in seering pain, but the rope was gone. As he gasped for air, he realized he had been cut free, and when he glanced up, he saw a pair of green-gold eyes staring down at him, one eyebrow quirked haughtily.

She'd done it.

She'd actually done it.

Rick had never really been a believer in Divine Providence until that moment, but as he looked up at her, he couldn't stifle the overwhelming feeling that God himself had plucked this woman out of nowhere and dropped her into his life. And he knew that for better or worse, she now held the key to his fate. It remained to be seen whether she would be his miracle or his curse.


End file.
